


Father Speirs and the Abuse of Power

by rum4life



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Abuse of Power, Catholic Church - Freeform, Choirboys, Coercion, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Extremely Underage, M/M, Pedophilia, Penitence, Priests, Rare Pairings, Spanking, daddy!Speirs, etc - Freeform, ok let's be real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:06:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rum4life/pseuds/rum4life
Summary: Speirs touches him once, by accident. His own fingers feel too rough against the silk of Nate’s wrist, like they’ll catch on it- leave a mark. He does it again, hypnotized by the feel of it, by the pink of Nate’s blush, the dark red of his lower lip.





	

**Author's Note:**

> born of a series of frantic skype conversations with [geonarism](http://geonarism.tumblr.com) months ago. 
> 
>  
> 
> don't ask.

It’s the smoothness of Nathaniel Fick’s skin that starts it all.

The smoothness of his skin, and the way that brown hair curls against the smooth, pale neck. How quickly Nate blushes, two bright hot spots of deep pink on those soft cheeks. 

Speirs touches him once, by accident. His own fingers feel too rough against the silk of Nate’s wrist, like they’ll catch on it- leave a mark. He does it again, hypnotized by the feel of it, by the pink of Nate’s blush, the dark red of his lower lip.

His cock goes rock hard in his cassock in seconds.

**

The next time Speirs touches Nate, they are alone, and he lets fingers linger. They follow the curve of a cheek stained with red and he marvels at the contrast of color and texture, cock so hard he can’t think straight.

“F…Father Speirs?” whispers Nate. His eyes are wide, and Speirs can see a distorted image of himself reflected in them, a dark smudge against clear green.

“Yes, son?” replies Speirs, distracted, and moves his hand up to stroke gently through Nate’s soft hair.

“I…” Nate shudders when Speirs scrapes his fingernails against Nate’s scalp. “Father, that feels good.”

Speir’s cock pulses and his fingers clench momentarily in reaction, drawing a small gasp from Nate’s lips. 

“You like that?” he asks Nate. He makes sure to keep his voice low, not wanting to startle him. Speirs doesn’t quite know what he wants to do, where this is leading, just knows he wants to hear Nate make that sound again. “You like to feel good, Nate?”

“Yes,” whispers Nate, and when Speirs tugs at his hair, Nate’s eyes flutter closed and he moistens his lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

Trying to regulate his breathing, Speirs walks around his desk and sits in his chair. He can’t remember if he’s locked his study, doesn’t give a shit, just motions for Nate to come to him, and the boy obediently follows.

“Come, sit.” 

Speirs spreads his legs a little, and Nate only hesitates for a moment, looking startled, before he turns and lowers himself carefully onto Speirs’ lap.

_Fuck._

Speirs bites back a groan, head flinging back for a second at the friction of Nate’s ass against his cock. Nate wriggles a little, looking over his shoulder expectantly, and if Speirs wasn’t grasping the edge of his desk like a lifeline he’s sure he would drown in the depth of those wide green eyes.

“What is it, Father?” Nate asks. He moves again, and Speirs shoots up a hand to still him, careful that his grip isn’t too rough against Nate’s hip.

“I want to show you something,” Speirs tells him. Nate is still looking back at him, eyes bright, brow slightly furrowed in confusion. When Speirs reaches around to rub the heel of his hand against Nate’s crotch, that beautiful gasp escapes Nate’s mouth again. 

Then he continues to gasp, again, and again, like music breathed hot and damp against Speirs’ cheek, as he reaches under the boy’s robes to touch him, skin to skin, coaxing him to hardness, reveling in the innocence of the sounds.

“That feel good?” Speirs whispers against the smooth stretch of Nate’s neck, fingers smearing pre-cum along the Nate’s length as those sounds, _those fucking sounds_ , spill out of that cherry-red mouth, over and over and over. “You like that, don’t you. _God_ , let me show you how good you’re gonna feel, Nate. Let me—”

He finishes even before Nate does, grinding against the soft ass on his lap, and muffles his groan against Nate’s spine.

**

“You have to be quiet,” Speirs tells David Webster, and leans back in his chair. “This is the House of God, and God likes little boys to stay quiet.”

“But why?” asks Webster. Dark lashes frame inquisitive blue eyes, and they flutter as he blinks and frowns. “Why would God want that, Father? We should raise our voices to Him-“

“Webster,” Speirs interrupts, shushing him. “David,” he adds, because the boy is frowning even more. “Trust the word of your Father. Now come here.”

“Yes, Father,” says Webster, and kneels before Speirs’ chair, already reaching to part his cassock. 

His cock twitches with interest. “Good boy,” he says softly, gently directs Webster’s head with one hand, the other hand pulling his cock out, tugging it once, twice. “You know what to do?”

Webster nods solemnly, mouth hanging open slightly. His lips are plump and moist, and Speirs gets fully hard in expectation. “Nate told me,” Webster says. He sounds proud. “He told me I mustn’t bite.”

“That’s right,” Speirs encourages him, and squeezes his eyes shut as he sinks the head of his cock into Webster’s hot mouth. Grunts, “That’s right, David. Just like a popsicle.”

Webster sucks a little, tentatively, and Speirs can feel his tongue flick hesitantly against the slit. It makes him jolt in his seat. 

Webster pulls back, face pulled in a grimace. “It doesn’t taste good, Father.”

_Dammit, just shut up._

“It’s a funny-tasting popsicle, Webster. Keep sucking.”

“Okay.”

It’s hard not to grasp the boy by the hair and thrust, fuck his sweet little mouth until he hits the back of Webster’s throat, and Speirs probably has gouges in his desk by now, he’s clenching it so hard. Webster makes whiny little noises, lips stretched fully around his cock, and Speirs almost forgets to pull out as he comes.

Webster touches a finger to the come on his lips and tongue, and makes a disgusted face. He spits twice into the plant beside the desk. “Ugh, gross,” he says, and wipes furiously at his mouth. “That tastes horrible, Father.”

Speirs is too drained to reply, but he makes sure to wipe the evidence off of Webster’s mouth and sleeve before sending him away.

**

Gene Roe is quiet and confident. He doesn’t talk much – thank Christ, after Webster, it’s like a breath of fresh air – and he sucks Speirs off with a diligence that impresses him. He concentrates so hard every time that sometimes he doesn’t hear Speirs’ warning before he comes, and Speirs has to forcibly remove him. 

Most of all, Gene likes to kiss, he finds. Sometimes Speirs lets him climb onto his lap, face to face, and rub his erection against him as his tongue cautiously licks into Speirs’ mouth. 

Gene is all sharp elbows and bony knees, the creaking chair barely holding both of them at the same time, but he groans deep and long when Speirs bites gently down onto the skin of his neck, and Speirs likes that. He likes the way Gene’s movements get frantic as he nears the edge, grasping the top of the chair and panting into his mouth, rocking against him like he can’t stop. 

He sobs prayers into Speirs’ collar when he comes, and it’s sweeter than any Holy Mass he has ever heard.

**

“So, son. Tell me why you’re in here.”

The boy standing in front of his desk shuffles a foot uncertainly. He has a bright shock of red hair, which looks like someone had tried to tame it and failed miserably. 

Edward Heffron is new- just came in last week. His parents are high profile members of the congregation, big donors, and haven’t missed a service in 30 years. Edward isn’t the only son of the family who’s been a choirboy here, apparently, although it was before Speirs’ time. 

This is the first time he’s talked to Heffron, although he’s heard rumblings among the nuns. _Troublemaker._ Backtalk, sass, fighting. It’s a surprise that he hasn’t made it into Speirs’ study sooner.

“Go on,” he presses, when Heffron continues to look down at his shoes. “I don’t bite.” _Not hard enough to leave marks, anyway._

“Sistah Gloriana sent me,” he answers sullenly. “For scrappin’ with Billy.”

His heavy accent drags his vowels out in a curious way, a lot like Billy Guarnere, one of the oldest choirboys. 

“Why were you fighting him?” 

When Heffron looks up, Speirs’ eyebrows rise in interest. He has a large shiner around his left eye, purple and tender-looking. 

“No reason.”

“ _Edward,_ ” Speirs warns.

Heffron lifts his chin defiantly. Speirs notes the sharp edges of his jaw, and the way the movement exposes his neck. It’s dirty, scratched up, like he’d been rolling with Billy in the mud outside. It lends him a scruffy look, and he looks less like a puppy dog, more like a growling stray. _Feisty_. 

“I ain’t no snitch,” he says quickly. “An’ you can punish me all ya want, I don’ care one goddamn bit.”

Well. Speirs could’ve ignored his behavior till now, but this is crossing the line. 

“While I would have let your actions with Billy slide, since you haven’t been with us long,” says Speirs slowly, “taking our Heavenly Father’s name in vain is a punishable offense. I trust you already know this by now, Heffron.”

Heffron’s mouth pulls down. “Yes, Father,” he says, makes it sound like a challenge. His defiant gaze stirs Speirs’ blood, in a way he hasn’t experienced with the others. His cock gives an interested twitch under his cassock.

Speirs sighs. “Come here and bend over my knee.”

Heffron looks startled, but quickly fixes his expression back to defiant, and struts over to stand in front of him. With stiff movements, he drapes his body over Speirs’ legs, hands clenched tightly into fists.

The weight of him, the feel of his tight young body so close, helps what little blood is still left in his body to flow swiftly to his cock. _Son of a bitch_. He hadn’t had time to ease Heffron into his little group of willing choirboys, no time to watch him and see if he even wanted him. 

But he knows now that wants him. Oh, he wants him. But it’s too soon.

His heart rate speeds up as he slowly pulls Heffron’s robe up, exposing his pale, freckled legs, and then pulls his briefs down to display the sweet curve of his ass. 

_Fuck. Fuck. I can’t do this. Too soon._

Speirs steels himself, and then smacks Heffron’s ass. Hard.

Heffron’s breath hitches on a groan.

_Smack_. “This is for your own good.” _Smack_. “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain.” _Smack_. “For the Lord will not hold him,” _Smack_. “-guiltless that taketh His name in vain.”

Heffron’s ass is bright red, warming under his palm. Every strike echoes around the silent study, the only other sound that of Speirs’ low murmurs and Heffron’s grunts of pain. 

Then, after another _smack_ , Speirs hears a restrained sob. A rush of electric arousal runs through him at the sound, sweet and sharp. He rests his hand on the hot skin of Heffron’s ass, willing his voice to come out normally. 

“Are you ready to repent, son?” 

Heffron looks up at him. All signs of defiance are gone from his face, and his brown eyes are filled with tears, red-orange lashes wet and dripping. He sniffs. “Yes, D-Daddy. I-I mean, Father Speirs.”

A thrill of arousal shoots through Speirs again, so quick and so intense that he almost comes, right then and there. 

“Good. The Lord values a humble and contrite spirit, Edward,” he whispers, hand tracing soothing circles of Heffron’s ass. 

Heffron sniffs and wipes at his face. He lies there, motionless, Speirs’ hands still soothing the red marks on that beautiful expanse of pale skin.

“Only the nuns call me Edward, Father,” Heffron mumbles.

“What do you want me to call you, then?”

“Babe, Da-Father. Call me Babe.”

Speirs considers it. He wants to hear Heffron call him Daddy again. No, he _needs_ it.

“All right. Babe.”

He feels the twitch of Babe’s cock moving against his leg. 

_Oh_.

“Babe,” he tries again. Babe shifts, and yes- he is definitely hardening against Speirs’ cassock, against the muscle of his thigh. 

_Interesting._

Speirs moves a finger up to trace the small indentations above Babe’s ass, then trails down the cleft of it, touch light enough that he can see the hair standing on Babe’s arm. He moves his finger up, then down, dipping in and out of the valley between. 

Babe’s cock is hard, now. 

“Babe,” he says, trying to stay calm. He dips his finger again, and Babe’s ass muscles clench, pushing his erection against Speirs. His sobs have turned into small moans. “Would you like me to help you along your path of repentance?”

Babe looks up at him, lip trembling, and gasps, “Yes, Daddy… I mean, Father.”

_Jesus fucking Joseph and Mary._

He is so, _so_ fucked.

**

Barely a week has passed, but already Babe has been in to see Speirs for punishment five times. Once for mouthing off to a nun, once for language. Picking fights, desecrating school property, slipping naughty words into hymns. _Troublemaker_ , whisper the nuns, shaking their heads. _How do you solve a problem like Edward Heffron?_

He’s beginning to think that the boy is doing it on purpose.

Today, Babe is in for scrawling bad words on one of the choir stalls. For his penitence Speirs has Babe bent over his desk, robe pulled up to bare his beautiful ass, and his cock is sliding slickly between the tight globes. One hand he has beneath Babe, stroking him slowly, drawing it out as much as he can. 

“Daddy,” Heffron moans into the desk, making Speirs’ hips stutter. “I- I feel like I’m gonna explode.”

“Do it, Babe. Fucking come for me. Come for Daddy.”

Babe cries out, a high whine of pleasure, and his body shudders under Speirs’ as he spills hot over his fist. The sight of him so undone, the feeling of Babe’s ass cheeks clenching around his cock- it’s too much, and Speirs is so close he can hear his own blood rushing in his ears. He pulls away with effort, reaching for a towel. 

Babe whimpers softly, glancing back, and before Speirs can stop him he’s sliding off the desk and onto his knees, looking up at him from under his lashes. 

“What-“

His hands wrap cautiously around Speirs’ cock, and Speirs has to make a desperate grab for his chair as his knees buckle from the sensation. 

“Are you going to come too, Daddy?” Babe asks, eager. Hungry. 

Speirs can’t get his brain to work, doesn’t reply, just thrusts forward into Babe’s tight grip with a stuttered moan. Then Babe is wrapping his mouth around the head of his cock and Speirs’ world tunnels into _whitehot_ and _wet_ and _so fucking good_ , can feel Babe’s tongue flutter against the underside, unsure and clumsy, _fucking God Almighty_ —

The world narrows and fades out, just for a moment, then expands again in a rush of pleasurable agony as his orgasm builds, threatens to overcome him. Babe doesn’t let himself be pushed off, just grabs Speirs by the hips and sucks harder. He looks up into Speirs’ eyes and that’s all it takes to push him over the edge and his vision _blurs_ because Babe swallows it down like a delicious fucking milkshake and… he is so. So. _Fucked_.

Breathing harshly, he leans down to swipe at the corner of Babe’s mouth, and Babe turns to suck his thumb, like he can’t get enough of the taste of him. 

“You like that?” Speirs chokes out, shaking. “You like how Daddy tastes?”

Babe’s eyes shine as he lets Speirs’ thumb go with a soft _pop_. “Yes, Daddy,” he whispers. “You taste so good.”

Speirs pulls Babe roughly towards him and kisses his beautiful mouth, tasting himself on Babe’s tongue, and he’s never felt this need to completely possess a human being before. Babe clings to him, moans like a whore into his mouth, and that’s when he knows that he is lost.

“You are mine,” Speirs whispers, grasping his chin and forcing it upwards. He tastes the skin of his neck and it is sweeter than honey, pure and undefiled under his tongue. He bites down to leave a mark, no longer caring who will see. 

_“Mine.”_


End file.
